The Incredibles: The Tale of the Hellfire Club
by Theodore Hawkwood
Summary: The Screenslaver did not work alone. Neither did Evelyn Deavor. They were merely a piece of a far larger puzzle known as the Hellfire Club...A version of Incredibles 2 with a Hellfire Club angle.
1. Prologue: Hellfire Club

**Prologue: The Hellfire Club**

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the Incredibles or X-men: First Class (which is where I lifted the concept for the Hellfire club, and Agent McTaggert as well). The character of Kaarlo Alanen (a.k.a. Carl Allenby) is my creation.

 **Author's Note:** This was inspired by a _This is Insider_ article that stated the film the Incredibles took place in the 1960s.

* * *

 **National Supers Agency Field Office  
** **Municiberg, U.S.A.  
** **Rick Dicker and Kaarlo Alanen  
** **30 May 1961, 0815**

"Good morning, Mr. Alanen," Rick Dicker began as he regarded the dark haired Finnish man sitting across the desk from him, an old friend, Kaarlo Alanen. "I take it you had a pleasant flight from Paris."

Alanen nodded, "Pleasant enough. Though I do wonder why I am here?"

"A fair question," Dicker replied, "Let's just say I'm squaring away a debt. You did save my life eleven years ago."

"This is true, my friend." Alanen said, dark eyes narrowing, "Let it be said that you are a man of your word. But I do wonder why I am here."

Dicker's fingertips pressed together atop the desk, forming a triangle as he looked past them at his old acquaintance. He reached into his desk drawer, pulling out a dossier.

"Let's just say this is one of those occasions where the personal and the professional areas meet." Dicker placed the dossier on his desk, unwinding the string that held the clasp holding the folder closed. _Hey, you did save my life eleven years ago and I owe you a favor._

Alanen glanced at the dossier as Dicker began to take several sheafs of paper out of it, setting it down into three piles.

"I understand the personal area, my friend." Alanen crossed his arms as he spoke, "But what is the professional one you speak of?"

"I was just getting there," Dicker replied, "Your resume is quite lengthy, and after that business last month I saw you are in some need of employment."

"I see." Alanen replied, "And yes, I could use some employment. Just what is the work you are interested in?"

"A job, Kaarlo," Dicker replied, "As I stated."

"That I am aware of, my friend." Alanen frostily replied, "I want to know what the job entails?"

"I'm not going to lie to you, Kaarlo," Dicker replied, "If you accept you're going right back across the Atlantic to Algeria. We've lost two agents in Algiers over the last month…"

"So that is why you are in need of my services." Alanen replied as he sat up in his chair.

Dicker continued, "As I was saying, two lost agents."

"Corpses in Algeria can have any number of authors." Alanen interrupted.

"Precisely." Dicker replied, "You served in Algeria for nearly eight years of your French Foreign Legion career. This mission calls for someone familiar with the terrain and area. You fit the bill nicely."

"I see. And after the mission?" Alanen replied.

"Then we'll start a six month probationary period. Welcome to the National Supers Agency Agent Alanen." Dicker stood up from the chair, extending his right hand.

"Thank you for your hospitality." Alanen replied, shaking Dicker's hand before letting go, turning around and walking out of the office.

* * *

 **Atomic Casino  
** **Las Vegas, Nevada  
** **Moira MacTaggert and Levene Darren  
** **14 September 1962, 1904**

The 1962 Lincoln Continental drove through the evening traffic before parallel parking in front of the Atomic Casino. "And we're here." the man with glasses and a three piece suit remarked from the driver's seat as he put the car in park.

"Without you hitting anything this time," the slim, auburn haired woman.

"Hey, no one noticed me backing into that planter earlier. And there wasn't even a dent in the bumper." Levene Darren protested as he pulled off his glasses and wiped them off with a handkerchief before putting them back on.

"You were just lucky," Moira MacTaggert replied with a smirk as she reached over into the backseat for a bag.

She unzipped the bag, revealing two pairs of binoculars, legal pads, and pencils. She handed one set of binoculars to Levene before taking one for herself before setting the pencils and legal pads beside the stick shift.

As the sun set Moira and Levene took in the sight of casino employees turning on the lighted sign and open the doors. A few tuxedo clad, muscular doormen took positions.

"Looks like some exclusive club." Moira remarked.

As night fell the pair watched guests begin to arrive at Atomic Casino. There were a few that were turned away by the doormen, who held clipboards. _Looks like getting in is by invite only._ Moira thought.

"Another day at the office," Levene quipped.

"Is that Colonel Hendry?" Moira asked, as she held up a pair of binoculars, sighting a silver haired bald man in a black tuxedo.

"The NATO Guy?" Levene looked up from the legal pad.

"Yeah." Moira replied.

"Yes it is. Because that's three mob bosses, the Italian ambassador and the CEO of Lockheed."

"They can't all be communists. This Hellfire Club has to be something else." Moira MacTaggert replied.

"Heh heh. Do you see that?" Levene said as he aimed his binoculars at several young women in lingerie walking towards the entrance.

Moira rolled her eyes. _Grow up, Levene. You can be so immature sometimes. I mean a few showgirls walk past and you get distracted...wait a minute...that's it!_

Levene whistled and said, "Hello girls...wow…very nice.."

Then he heard the sound of a zipper opening to his right in time to see Moira removing her sweater and her dress.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Levene stammered.

"Using some equipment the CIA didn't give me," Moira calmly replied, as if she weren't sitting in the passenger seat wearing nothing more than a black bra, panties, garters, garter belt, stockings and heels.

Moira opened the car door as she spoke, "Stay put."

She saw there was still another group of showgirls heading for the entrance and walked towards the tail end of the group. _So far so good…_

As they passed the door she thought. _I'm in. Just a couple appraising looks from the doormen, but that was it._

Cheers, wolf whistles, and catcalls sounded as the parade of scantily clad women descended the staircase. Moira, at the end of the line, watched as the ladies dispersed among the crowd of tuxedo clad gentlemen.

 _Those alcoves!_ Moira's mind raced as she saw several women going into a line of round alcoves recessed into the walls, covered by curtains.

Among the men in the alcoves she saw Colonel Hendry with a stunning blonde in a white bra, short mini skirt, and long, high heeled boots. The blonde closed the curtains of the alcove as Moira took the final three steps down to the casino floor.

"Hello beautiful. How are you?" a male voice to her right sounded.

"Hey baby, want to find a quiet place?" another male voice.

Moira turned around to see the two men before smiling politely, "I'm so sorry, I've been booked by Colonel Hendry."

She moved past another cluster of men with a polite, "Excuse me."

As she did she felt goosebumps forming, mainly from the lusty looks from the men as she walked towards the alcove where she'd seen Hendry. She opened the curtains slowly.

 _How does somebody vanish into thin air like that?_ Moira thought with a gasp. She glanced over one shoulder before she entered the alcove and closed the curtains behind her. After she did so, she sat down in the leather seat that surrounded a circular table with a black and white facade.

 _I didn't see them leave here. How did they get out of here...unless._ Moira thought. Then she noticed there was a projection atop the table. She pressed down on it and felt the room spin and with a gasp she found herself in a tastefully furnished office.

She stood up, flattening herself against the wall before peering around the edge of it. Glimpsing at the fireplace, then at the desk. Seeing she was alone for the moment Moira headed towards the desk.

Atop the desk was a manila folder with the words **Project Kronos** stamped on it. She opened the folder, seeing what appeared to be blueprints and a concept sketch of a spherical battle robot with five legs ending in wicked looking claws.

 _Omnidroid!?_ Moira's eyes widened. _That thing that terrorized Municiberg three months ago! Syndrome's research wound up in the wrong hands…_

Moira heard the impact of a body smacking against a wall. She ducked behind the desk for a few heartbeats before she stood up and now noticed there was a seam between the two bookshelves. _A secret passage!_

She looked through it just in time to see the blonde woman she had seen earlier change. Literally.

She saw the woman's skin turn into what looked like diamond as she walked towards whoever had hit the wall. Had it been Colonel Hendry? She stepped away from the opening between the shelves, her back against the wall.

She heard a raspy, mechanical sounding voice say, "We don't want the Colonel to be late."

Moira dared another look through the secret passage entrance in time to see a tall, slim figure dressed entirely in black. His face was obscured by a full black mask, the eyes two large blue lenses and a square microphone where his mouth should be.

The man gestured and Moira saw a dark, vertical circle, as tall as a man. Colonel Hendry was standing in front of it.

"Through there." the voice said.

Hendry walked through the portal before vanishing. As he did so Moira turned around, walking straight back for the alcove, heart racing. She sat down before activating the mechanism that spun it back around, bringing her back to the casino.

By the time she got back, the party was in full swing and one woman slipping out amidst the debauchery went unnoticed as she walked back to her car.

"Well?" Levene began.

"Not now," Moira replied as she reached over for the car phone handset, dialing a number.

* * *

 **Safari Court Motel  
** **Municiberg, U.S.A.  
** **Rick Dicker and Parr Family  
** **15 September 1962, 1630**

Special Agent Rick Dicker, National Supers Agency, drove the armored police van to a parking lot. The parking lot, adjacent to a brown and orange building with a flickering neon sign was the Parrs' new home at the Safari Court Motel.

After he parked the van he watched as the Parr family got out. He saw Helen, with Jack Jack perched on one hip, shepherding Violet and Dash up the stairs to Room 204 as Bob headed over to the driver side door of the van. He listened as Bob brought up a small matter of a student at Westview Junior High School having seen Violet without her mask.

Dicker nodded, "Talkative type?"

"Don't know." Bob replied, "Last name is Rydinger."

"Tony Rydinger." Rick muttered as he wrote the name down on a pad on his lap with a pencil, then looked up, "I'll look into it."

Bob turned around to rejoin his wife as Dicker said, "Bob? Helen? A word if you don't mind?"

Helen briefly handed Jack Jack over to Violet before heading over to the van alongside Bob. As soon as the children were out of earshot Dicker sighed, "The program's been shut down. Politicians don't understand people who do good simply because it's right. Makes 'em nervous. They've been gunning for Supers for years. Today was all they needed…"

Dicker's voice trailed off for a moment. _God I hate this. These are five honest, hardworking Americans and the politicians want to screw them over just because they're born different._

"Anyway...I'm done. I'm afraid two weeks in the motel is the best I can do for ya. It ain't much…"

"You've done plenty, Rick," Helen cut him off before giving the man a hug through the open window.

"We won't forget," Bob replied, shaking hands with Dicker after Helen and Rick separated.

"Well, it's been a great honor working with you good people," Rick replied before backing the van out of the parking space to start the trip back to the NSA Field Office.

He got onto the freeway, stopping every so often due to the after effects of the Underminer's rampage. He took the detour at 7th Street, boxing around towards Traction Avenue before reaching the parking lot of the NSA Field Office.

He parked the van and walked towards the lobby in time to see Kaarlo Alanen standing at the door.

"Rick, there's a meeting in the conference room. They're waiting for you." Kaarlo began.

"Thanks." Rick walked towards the elevator, glancing at his old friend's new badge, "I see you changed your name."

Rick squinted to read the newly printed identification badge, "Carl Allenby?"

"Yes. There are a few of my fellow Finns I know of who adopted more American names when they immigrated."

Dicker faintly grinned, "I'm gonna have to get used to that."

"And the Superhero Relocation Program shutdown among other things," Carl replied, "But according to rumor we're being retasked."

"Do tell." Dicker replied.

"Something about a recent report from the CIA involving something called the Hellfire Club." Carl replied.

* * *

TBC


	2. Meetings

**Meetings**

 **Disclaimer:** Same as before…

* * *

 **** **Safari Court Motel, Room 204  
** **Municiberg, U.S.A.  
** **Parr Family  
** **15 September 1962, 1901**

Sitting down to a repast of Chinese takeout food the Parr family gathered around the small circular table of Room 204. Violet Parr, 14, the eldest child of the Parr family took in for the umpteenth time the various cardboard boxes and pieces of luggage seeing the few items they'd been able to salvage after Syndrome's wrecked jet aircraft burned their house to the ground.

As her eyes wandered back to the table she saw her brother reaching for the platter piled high with egg rolls. With a gesture she made a forcefield appear around it.

"Did you wash your hands?" Violet asked.

Dash frowned before speeding over to the sink and Violet heard water running before the spigot turned off and her brother raced back over. Then he reached for the egg rolls again and Violet threw yet another forcefield into the way.

"With soap?" Violet asked.

Dash's frown increased before he again rushed over to the sink and he raced back for the table, once again reaching for the egg rolls. Violet, again, threw up a forcefield.

"Did you dry them?"

Dash shook his hands until they were dry. Violet smirked before removing the forcefield and watching her brother snatch an egg roll, cram it into his mouth and start swallowing as he reached for a container of food.

After he dumped some of the contents onto his plate he exclaimed, "What!? Is this all vegetables? Who ordered all vegetables?"

"I did," Helen declared, "They're good and you're going to have some."

She dipped a serving spoon into the container and added another heap to Dash's plate. After a brief silence Violet asked, "Are we gonna talk about it?"

"What?" Bob asked, mouth still full of stir-fry beans.

"The elephant in the room," Violet replied.

"What elephant?" Bob asked with furrowed eyebrows.

"I guess not, then," Violet sighed.

Helen set her chopsticks down, "You're referring to today?"

"Yeah, what's the deal with today?" Dash interjected.

"We all make mistakes," Helen calmly replied, "For example, you kids were supposed to watch Jack Jack."

Violet huffed, "Babysitting, while you guys were doing all the important stuff."

"We talked about this," Helen replied, "You're not old enough to decide about these things..."

Violet turned towards Bob, "We are old enough to help out."

"Yeah," Dash added, "Isn't that what you tell us, Dad?"

"Yeah," Bob conceded as he looked down at his plate, "But 'help out' can mean many different things."

"But we're supposed to help if there's trouble…" Violet pressed.

"Well...Yeah...but…" Bob stammered.

"Aren't you glad we helped today?" Violet asked.

"Well, yeah. I was….AM…" Bob stumbled.

"We wanna fight bad guys!" Dash declared as baby Jack Jack babbled and gurgled in time with his older brother, raising his fists and banging them up and down on the high chair.

"No. You don't!" Helen interjected.

"You said things were different now," Violet protested.

"Yes, things _were_ different. _On the island._ " Helen replied, referring to Syndrome's former fortress on Nomanisan Island, "But now…"

"So now we've got to go back to never using our powers again?" Violet asked.

"It defines who I am," Dash said.

"We're not saying you have…" Bob began before his son's words registered, "What?"

"Someone on TV said it," Dash shrugged.

"Can - can we just eat? The dinner? While it's still hot?" Helen asked. _What a time for this can of worms to get opened._

"Did we do something wrong?" Dash asked.

"Yes," Helen replied at nearly the same moment Bob added his own two cents.

"No."

Helen glared silently at Bob after his contradiction, " _We_ didn't do anything _wrong._ "

"Superheroes are _illegal_ ," Helen countered, "Whether that's fair or not, that's the law."

"The law should be fair," Bob argued, "What are we teaching our kids?"

"To respect the law!" Helen replied.

"Even when the law is disrespectful?"

"If the laws are unjust, there are laws to change them - otherwise it's chaos!"

"Which is what we have." Bob protested.

WHAM! Helen's hand slammed onto the table, rattling plates and glasses as the room fell silent. For a few seconds no one moved. Then the family went back to silently eating dinner.

"I just thought it was kind of cool," Violet said, looking up from her meal.

"What was?" Helen calmly asked.

"Fighting crime." Violet answered, "As a family…"

"It was cool," Helen conceded. "But it's over. The world is what it is. We have to...adapt."

"Are things...bad?" Dash asked.

"Things are fine, honey." Helen replied.

Dash smiled and asked, "May I be excused?"

Before Bob had managed to nod, Dash cleared his plate In a matter of seconds, putting the empty plate into the sink and racing over to the couch to turn on the television revealing a monster destroying a Japanese city.

Violet got up after finishing her own dinner, "How much longer in the motel?"

"Not much longer, Honey." Helen replied.

* * *

 **C.I.A. Headquarters  
** **Langley, V.A., U.S.A.  
** **Moira MacTaggert, William Stryker Sr., and John A. McCone  
** **15 September 1962, 2033**

Moira MacTaggert felt the stale coffee from the break room pooling in her stomach as she suppressed a yawn. _Well it was a long flight from Las Vegas to Dulles and an even longer drive to Langley._

She could see Agent William Stryker, Sr. with a dossier under his left arm standing at the entrance of the conference room. He fixed her with a piercing glare as she approached.

"MacTaggert," Stryker began frostily, "Director McCone wants to see you."

"About what?" Moira asked.

"Your little side trip in Vegas." Stryker replied, "What part of covert did you not understand?"

"I found important information!" Moira protested.

"You could have compromised the entire Hellfire Club surveillance operation. What the Hell were you thinking?" Stryker stepped to one side, arms folded as he spoke.

"I saw an opportunity to get us closer to the Hellfire Club than we've been since the operation started." Moira walked the last couple of steps closer to the conference room.

"Ladies first," Stryker replied.

Moira walked into the conference room, seeing Director McCone sitting at the head of the table, with another dossier to his right, speaking quietly into a telephone before hanging it up. McCone looked up, peering at Moira through a pair of wire rimmed spectacles.

"Agent McTaggert," McCone began, "You and Levene managed to find out more about this mysterious Hellfire Club than any surveillance team has ever done. I, however, have more than a few reservations about the methods you used to get into the Hellfire Club."

"Sir I…" Moira began as she took her seat, to the left of Stryker as he sat beside McCone at the head of the table.

"McTaggert, I don't want to hear it." McCone brusquely replied, "If you hadn't found the information you did you would be your way back to the typing pool tonight."

"If you're not sending me back to the typing pool…" Moira countered.

"Your report about seeing at least one Super last night generated some interest from the National Supers Agency." McCone replied.

"You'll be working closely with Agent Carl Allenby, NSA." Stryker replied, handing Moira the dossier.

Moira opened Stryker's dossier reading the information. Her eyes immediately fell on three black and white photographs. _This man spent the past twenty years serving in the armies of three countries. France, Finland, and Germany._ Moira thought. _Within the last year or so he changed his name from Kaarlo Alanen to Carl Allenby and..._

Her eyes went wide at the third photograph of a young Allenby wearing the field gray uniform of the World War II German army, with the twin _siegrunen_ on one collar. _The symbol of the Waffen-SS._ Recognition struck Moira like a right cross landing flush.

"Agent Allenby had a run in with the Hellfire Club in Algiers in June 1961. He was the agent at the NSA who identified why they lost two agents there last spring." McCone began.

"It says he shot his way into the British Embassy in Algiers in that same year." Moira replied. _Extensive combat experience in three major wars, probably how he survived whatever happened to him. How did he wind up in the British Embassy though?_

Moira continued to read through the document. _Four dead bodies left in his wake before crashing through the front gates of the British embassy. This fellow could use a refresher in tradecraft._

McCone handed Moira a second dossier. This one was titled 'Incredibles/Parr Family'. She opened it to see a family photograph in color of a powerfully built blond haired man with a bit of a potbelly with his arm around the waist of a slim bodied brunette woman. The woman had a baby cradled in her arms. The couple and the baby were standing behind a small sofa and sitting on that sofa were a dark haired teenager and a blond haired boy, about ten years old.

Moira looked at the names written beside each family member, committing the names to memory. _Bob, the husband. Helen, the wife. Jack Jack the baby. Violet the teenager. Dash the middle kid._

Moira shifted the photograph aside, revealing several typed pages about each family member. _Powers of super strength, super flexibility, speed, invisibility, force field generation…_

"According to the NSA's most recent reports the Parr family got into some trouble when they attempted to stop a villain known as the Underminer." McCone began, "He stole several million in cash from banks in Municiberg, and despite the Parr's attempts, escaped. The Parr family narrowly prevented the Underminer's runaway drilling machine from destroying city hall."

"So what's my mission?" Moira asked.

"Work closely with the NSA regarding this Hellfire matter. If there are Supers in the Hellfire Club the Parrs could be a very helpful ally." McCone replied.

"Wait, you want to use superpower freaks against the Hellfire Club?" Stryker protested.

"Bill," McCone replied, "Let's not forget that Bob and Helen Parr were very helpful to us in World War II when they assisted the OSS."

Stryker remained silent, face a neutral mask as McCone reached for an envelope next to the telephone. He handed it to Moira.

"Your flight to Municiberg leaves in two hours." McCone replied, "I suggest you get packed."

Moira closed the two dossiers before walking out of the conference room to do just that. _Shouldn't be much traffic out at this hour, so once I get to my apartment, pack a bag and then head for Washington National Airport…_

Reaching her free hand to her mouth as she yawned a second time, Moira took a quick detour at the break room where she poured yet another cup of coffee. _Dark and with the consistency of turpentine. Standard government coffee._ Moira thought before sipping at the mug.

* * *

 **Safari Court Motel, Poolside  
** **Municiberg, U.S.A.  
** **Helen and Bob Parr  
** **15 September 1962, 2005**

Helen Parr watched the full moon reflecting off the surface of the pool while sitting on one of the poolside chairs beside Bob. With a sigh she asked, "What are we going to do?"

Bob shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know. Maybe Dicker will find something."

"Dicker is done, Bob." Helen turned to face him as she spoke, "Any thought we had about being Supers again is a fantasy. One of us has to get a job."

After a brief pause, Helen continued, "I know that your job at Insuracare was frustrating and hard on you. Maybe I should be the one to get a job…"

"No!" Bob interjected, "I'm the breadwinner...I'll start winning some bread tomorrow. You know where my suit and ties are?"

"Burned up when…" Helen began.

"...the jet destroyed our house." Bob continued, speaking along with his wife. He smiled at his wife, and she returned the smile, placing her hand atop his. As he held hands with his wife he heard the creak of the pool gate opening.

Both Helen and Bob stood up in time to see Lucius Best walking into the light, wearing a long tan trench coat and what looked to be his blue and white super suit underneath it.

"Well where did _you_ go today?" Bob asked, "I noticed you missed all the fun."

"Don't be mad because I know when to leave a party," Lucius said with a sly grin, "I'm just as illegal as you guys. Besides, I knew the cops would let you go."

"Yeah, in spite of Bob's best efforts." Helen joked. Bob rolled his eyes and smirked at his wife's comment.

"I heard the program's shut down," Lucius asked, "How long you in this motel?"

"Two weeks," Bob replied.

"You know the offer still stands," Lucius replied.

"You're very generous but there's five of us. We wouldn't do that to you and Honey," Helen interjected.

"Door's always open," Lucius replied, "While you were dealing with the cops today I met this man. A representative of some tycoon named Winston Deavor. Wanted to talk to the three of us about 'hero stuff'."

As he spoke Lucius partially opened his trenchcoat, revealing he was, in fact wearing his super suit underneath the trench coat.

"Aw jeez. More superhero trouble? We just came _back_ from the police station, Lucius." Helen protested.

"When?" Bob asked.

"Tonight. I'm going there now."

"You enjoy," Helen replied, with a slight flick of her wrist, "I'm sitting this one out."

"Deavor wants to see all three of us," Lucius replied.

"Let's just hear what he has to say," Bob said as he turned to face his wife.

With a sigh, Helen nodded, "Go...in our supersuits?"

"You might wanna wear the old supersuits," Lucius said, "Got a feeling he's nostalgic."

Little did Lucius, Helen, or Bob know that their meeting had been observed. As soon as Bob and Helen returned to Room 204 to retrieve their supersuits, trench coats and masks Carl Allenby made the last notes on his notebook before starting his car and driving off.

* * *

 **Happy Platter  
** **Municiberg, U.S.A.  
** **Moira MacTaggert and Carl Allenby  
** **16 September 1962, 0811**

Moira MacTaggert handed the cab fare to the driver after she was dropped off at the Happy Platter restaurant. _At least I got a little sleep on the plane. Other than that phone call from the front desk at the Safari Court Motel telling me about my meeting at 8:15 A.M. I slept okay there._

Moira approached the hostess at the front of the restaurant, "Excuse me, I'm meeting a colleague here."

The hostess looked up and asked, "What's your colleague's name?"

"Carl," Moira replied.

"Right this way." The hostess walked deeper into the restaurant and turned right, leading Moira to a booth near the back corner of the restaurant.

 _His back is to the wall, someone trying to prevent being ambushed. Certainly fitting for someone who's been in one war or another for the last twenty years._ Moira thought as she approached. She took in his details as she approached, a dark haired, stout built fellow standing about 5'9" wearing a tan sport coat with a white collared shirt and no tie. With a slight glance downward she could see he wore a pair of gray slacks and black shoes.

For his part Carl Allenby had noticed the auburn haired young woman after she took a few steps into the Happy Platter. The cut of her black jacket and the white blouse showed her slim figure rather well, and the black miniskirt she wore with them showed a pair of slim legs.

 _Definitely a beautiful woman._ Carl thought to himself as the newcomer walked towards the booth.

As Moira approached the booth she noticed Carl had a pin on his lapel, and as she got closer she noticed the distinct shape of a skull with two crossed femurs. _A Totenkopf badge._ Moira thought. _German for Deathshead._

Moira took her seat across from Carl and with a wry grin remarked, "That's bad tradecraft you know."

Carl glanced down to his lapel pin, "Really? How so?"

"People would remember seeing an enamel skull lapel pin with crossed femurs." Moira glanced over as their server approached.

"Perhaps," Carl replied.

"You do realize there are some really bad associations people would have with that insignia, right?"

" _Sieg heil._ " Carl smirked as he raised his coffee mug.

"You just proved my point." Moira glanced out of the nearest window, eyes tracking a car driving past.

"Does it look like I'm flapping my arms for a dead _Fuhrer_?"

"You certainly made me think so." Moira's gaze returned to her companion as their server approached and filled Moira's coffee cup.

"Was my sarcasm unclear?" Carl's eyebrows furrowed.

 _He did smirk when he said that, but still...it's going to be something I'm going to look further into later._ Moira thought before replying, "Attempts at wit aside, you know why I'm here."

"I'm quite aware, yes." Carl replied, before reaching inside his sport coat, extracting an envelope which he handed to Moira.

Moira took the envelope and opened it, seeing black and white photographs of the parking lot of the Safari Court Motel, a limousine, and Lucius Best along with Helen and Bob Parr getting inside.

"I took those photographs around 8 o'clock last night." Carl replied, again with an ironic grin, "And yes, I had my lapel pin on."

"Not bad," Moira remarked as she looked through the photos, "Devtech?"

"It's a media and technology company owned by Winston and Evelyn Deavor." Carl began, "Unfortunately the front door of Devtech was as far as I was able to get last night."

"Probably a wise decision given the Algiers Incident," Moira quipped.

"There is a lot more to that story," Carl replied, raising his right hand with his index and middle finger raised, ring, pinky and thumb closed.

* * *

TBC


	3. Perceptions

**Perceptions**

 **Disclaimer:** Same as before…

* * *

 **DevTech Tower  
** **Municiberg, U.S.A.  
** **Emma Frost, Bob and Helen Parr, Lucius Best, Winston Deavor  
15 September 1962, 2035**

Emma Frost sat behind the front desk of the top floor office of the DevTech tower. Not five minutes ago Frozone, Elastigirl and Mr. Incredible had come through the elevator. _I would be very tempted to try and get inside either of their heads, but I don't want them to even know I exist...yet._

She looked at the clock on the wall, 8:35 P.M. before looking at the calendar on the desk which had the appointment that Winston and Evelyn Deavor had penciled in.

Emma reached out with her mind, telepathically entering the head of one Winston Deavor, CEO of DevTech as he met his three new guests…

"I _love_ Superheroes!" Winston Deavor beamed as he walked down the curved staircase into the meeting room.

 _And he's not putting on an act either,_ Emma thought to herself. She could feel the man's heart racing, could feel the muscles in his face contracting as a smile formed.

Winston continued on, "The powers, the costumes, the mythic struggles…"

 _Ugh..._ Emma thought to herself as she listened to Winston singing the theme songs of Frozone, Elastigirl, and Mr. Incredible in turn. _So sophomoric...but I need to see this meeting._

Emma heard the chime of the elevator just then, and saw the slim brunette with the short haircut walking into the room. With a frazzled look on her face Evelyn Deavor glanced over at the clock muttering, "Shit, I'm late."

Emma turned her mind back towards what was going on in the room, looking at it all through the eyes of Winston Deavor.

"I can't tell you what a thrill this is," Winston said as the door opened.

 _And enter a pawn._ Emma Frost thought to herself. _She thinks herself so clever, but in reality..._

Through Winston's eyes Emma could see the door opening and Evelyn entering the room while Winston introduced her, "And this is my tardy sister, Evelyn."

"Hello there, Superheroes," Evelyn said as she walked into the room, "I'm late."

She turned towards her brother and said, "I'm scolding myself so you don't have to."

Through the telepathic connection Emma had with Winston she could feel the man's facial muscles form into the shape of a slight frown, and could feel the mix of embarrassment and frustration coursing through his veins. Then he turned back to face the three guests.

 _Ugh, he's so fawning towards these Supers. But at least he's a man who recognizes our superiority._ Emma thought. _A most useful pawn._

"Spectacular!" Winston said, smiling as he spoke, "Sporting the same suits from yesteryear, and not the ones you wore with your kids."

Again, looking through Winston's eyes, Emma could see Mr. Incredible and Elastigirl trading concerned looks. _Of course, so worried about your precious secret identities being known. Well, it isn't as if I didn't already know them._

"You're uncomfortable that I know your alter egos and that you two are married and have kids. You have nothing to worry about." Winston continued.

"Then how do you know about us?" Bob asked.

"You probably don't remember me, but I worked with Rick Dicker for a brief period, right before you all went underground."

Lucius scrutinized Winston for a few moments before smiling as the recognition hit, "Yeah! You had long hair back then."

Winston smiled back and with a chuckle said, "Dicker made me cut it. Anyway, my father **so** proud that I was even remotely connected to you guys."

As he spoke his gaze fell upon the portrait of a slim bodied older gentleman wearing wire rimmed glasses.

"I simply adore Supers. And so did my father. He donated to superhero causes, to include raising money for that statue of Dynaguy in Avery Park. He got to know Supers personally, even installing a phone with direct lines to Gazerbeam and Fironic in case of emergencies. He loved that, and showed it to everyone…" Winston continued.

 _Ugh the fawning continues._ Emma thought to herself as she continued to watch the scene through Winston's eyes. _If only I dared probe the minds of Mr. Incredible, Elastigirl or Frozone. But they probably would recognize a telepath getting into their minds._

With a sigh he said, "He was heartbroken when you were all forced to go underground."

"Father believed the world would become more dangerous without you." Evelyn added.

"He didn't know how right he was." Winston began as Emma thought to herself, _My words exactly. Except that I certainly have no intention of ever helping humans._

"One night," Winston continued, "Someone broke into our home. My mother wanted to hide, but my father wanted to call Gazerbeam-on the direct line. No answer. He called Fironic; no answer. Superheroes had just been made illegal, but somehow he was sure they would answer his call. The robbers discovered him on the phone...and they shot him."

 _What was he thinking._ Emma thought. _That we Supers would help ungrateful humans after they cast us out? No._

"Must have been hard." Helen mused.

"Especially for Mother. She died a few months later from heartbreak." Evelyn replied.

Emma could sense the bitterness and resentment emanating from Evelyn. _Oh yes. A good choice, indeed, for my pawn._ Emma thought as she congratulated herself.

"If Supers hadn't been forced underground, it never would have happened. I'm _sure_ of it!" Winston insisted.

"Or...Dad could've taken Mom to the safe room as soon as he knew-" Evelyn fumed.

"I disagree, _strongly,_ " Winston replied, "But we're not going to go into it right now."

He turned towards the Supers and continued, "We've had this argument forever. Pay no attention. The point is-we've picked ourselves up and put our energy into building DevTech."

"A world-class telecommunications company." Frozone observed.

"Perfectly positioned to make wrong things right. Hence this meeting!" Winston replied before standing up and gesturing to a nearby office, "Right this way, please."

The three Supers followed Winston into the office which sported multiple large television screens. After they entered Evelyn closed the door behind them for privacy. After she did so, Winston asked, "Let me ask you something. What is the main reason you were all forced underground?"

"Ignorance." Bob quickly stated.

"Perception," Winston countered immediately.

Evelyn clicked a button on a remote control and footage of the Parrs and Lucius fighting the Underminer appeared on a nearby television set. "Take today, for example, with the Underminer. Difficult situation. You were faced with a lot of hard decisions."

"Oh, tell me about it." Bob groaned.

"I can't," Winston replied with a dramatic pause, "Because I didn't see it. And neither did anybody else. So when you fight bad guys-like you did today-people don't see the fight or what led up to it. They see what the politicians tell them to see: they see the destruction and then they see you."

Winston nodded to his sister who tapped a button on the remote she was holding. Then he continued to speak, "One thing they don't see is this."

The image of a woman speaking to a reporter appeared on screen, "My car was headed over the edge, then suddenly I felt this arm wrapping around me and pulling me to safety. Elastigirl saved my life."

"Yeah, you're damn straight she did!" Bob declared.

Evelyn paused the footage, focusing on images of the Supers under arrest by police moments after stopping the Underminer.

Then Winston spoke again, "If we want to change people's perceptions about Superheroes we need _you_ to share _your_ perceptions with the world."

"How would we do that?" Helen asked.

Winston gestured grandly and Evelyn tapped a remote control and on three nearby television screens angles of Helen's face and another of Winston's appeared. With that, Winston spoke, "We need _you_ to share _your_ perceptions with the world."

"How do we do that?" Helen asked.

Evelyn tapped the remote again and a live feed of the three Supers' faces appeared on the three screens. Almost as one Bob, Helen, and Lucius looked down at their security badges. Evelyn explained, "With cameras small enough to be sewn into the lining of your super suits."

Helen smiled widely, "That is so cool. I mean these cameras are so small but the picture quality is outstanding."

"Thank you," Evelyn said, "I designed them myself."

 _And with no nudging from me._ Emma thought as she read Evelyn's mind. _Certainly a quite useful pawn._

With a small smile Emma continued to watch the meeting through the eyes of the Deavor siblings as Bob replied, "Well that's fantastic. The public needs to be in our shoes."

"All we need now are the Superest Superheroes. We _need_ you there!" Winston beamed.

"But our family had a run-in with the law. I can't risk that happening again." Helen protested.

"Understood," Winston replied, "But, do you change your kids to fit in a smaller world or do you make the world larger for your kids? We've got resources, lobbyists, worldwide connections, and most importantly, insurance."

"Insurance is key," Bob replied.

"And it will be our top priority." Winston replied, "You just be Supers, and we'll get the public on your side. We won't stop till you're legal again."

Bob slapped his hands together. "This sounds _great_! Let's say we're all in-what's my first assignment."

"That enthusiasm is golden, please hold on to it. But for our first move Elastigirl is our best play." Winston replied.

Bob's eyes widened and he gasped, "Better than...me?"

As he glanced over at his wife, Helen glared. "Ahem?"

"I mean she's good…" Bob backpedaled, "She's-uh-really a credit to her-uh, but...you know…"

Winston smiled at Bob. "With great respect, let's not test the whole 'insurance will pay for everything' idea on the first go-round, okay?

Lucius tasted a bit of blood as he bit the inside of his lip before covering his mouth, covering a suppressed laugh with a faux-sneeze.

"Wait a minute-you're saying, what, I'm...messy?" Bob protested.

 _Much nicer than I would've put it._ Emma thought to herself as she watched the conversation through the eyes and ears of Winston Deavor.

"Evelyn and I compiled all the data from you and Elastigirl's last five years of crime fighting and Elastigirl's numbers are self-explanatory." Winston handed Bob a folder with the data in question as he spoke.

Bob shifted his weight in his seat, arms crossed as he spoke, "Well, it's not a fair comparison. Heavyweight problems demand heavyweight solutions."

Winston smiled again. "Of course, we'll solve all kinds of problems together after the perfect launch with Elastigirl."

Evelyn asked, "So whaddya say?"

Helen's eyes went wide, "What do I say? I don't know."

* * *

 **Happy Platter  
** **Municiberg, U.S.A.  
** **Moira MacTaggert and Carl Allenby  
** **16 September 1962, 0901**

"So what happened in Algeria?" Moira asked.

"Which time? After all I was there twice within the last ten years." Carl replied, calmly sipping at his cup of coffee.

"The one where you shot your way into the British Embassy," Moira replied, smiling.

"I'm afraid that story is classified, _mademoiselle_." Carl smirked before setting his mug down.

Moira leaned forward, eyes never leaving Carl's, "I do have the appropriate clearance."

"Then read the report. I'm certain my people sent your people a copy." Carl replied. _Certainly quite a lovely smile. And for a less savvy man one that could be quite disarming. Best be on my guard._

Moira replied with a smirk of her own. "It was largely redacted. To include the reason why you spent almost six months in the United Kingdom after that incident. How did you wind up in the British Embassy?"

"Let's just say a certain secretary at the NSA has less than legible penmanship." Carl countered.

"Wait, so after escaping from a deadly ambush by shooting your way out of it, you ran to the _wrong_ Embassy? And you're blaming it on a secretary's bad penmanship?" Moira chuckled.

"Small things have been known to change the course of battles," Carl smirked before taking another sip of his coffee.

"Sounds like you know what you're talking about," Moira replied, "Given your experience over the last twenty years."

Carl raised an eyebrow as he set his mug down, "I get the feeling you wish to speak of the gorilla in the room."

With a slight smirk, Moira replied, "You mean the elephant in the room?"

"Yes, that too."

Moira's smile reverted to a more serious expression as she asked, "So why did you join the _Waffen-SS_?"

"To put it simply, because of the invasion of my homeland by the Soviets in 1939." Carl replied, "I know now that many nations offered their sympathies when the Red Army rolled across our border. But of the nations only Germany offered to help us deal with the Soviets."

"Okay, I can sort of see that, but why the German military?" Moira asked.

"Bit of a long story," Carl warned. _Certainly can be direct at times. But it seems like she's easily capable of pulling a 'charm offensive'. Best if I am on my guard with this one._

"I do have time to hear it," Moira countered.

"Perhaps not." Carl canted his head to the left, looking over Moira's right shoulder in time to see Rick Dicker walking over to them.

Rick crossed the diner with long strides as Moira glanced over at him. She slid a bit further down her seat, letting Rick take the outer seat in the booth.

"I see you two have met." Rick took his seat before raising his right arm to signal a waitress over for a cup of coffee, "I got those pictures you took last night and it looks like there was a big meeting at DevTech."

"A big media and technology company," Carl replied, "I recall that."

"And let's not forget that it's CEO, Winston Deavor, once trained at the NSA under me." Rick replied.

"Do we have any idea what it was about?" Moira asked.

"We don't. But given that Winston Deavor is known to advocate for Supers, an educated guess tells me that it's part of his campaigning to make Supers legal again." Deavor replied.

"That could help us with the Hellfire Club," Moira mused.

"The question is what was that meeting about," Carl interjected.

"That's one of the things I intend us to discuss with Bob and Helen in the near future." Rick replied.

"How far in the 'near future'?" Carl asked.

"We'll talk to them over dinner." Rick replied.

* * *

 **The Idler Brewpub  
** **Munciberg, U.S.A.  
** **Bob and Helen Parr  
** **19 September 1962, 1601**

"Rick wanted us to meet him here," Bob replied as he took his seat at a table at the red brick building that housed the Idler Brewpub.

"In reference to last night's meeting?" Helen asked as she pulled her chair out slightly.

Bob nodded, "He said as much over the phone this morning."

"What else did he say?" Helen asked, as she slid into the chair across from Bob.

"We're going to have a couple of agents, one from the CIA and another from the NSA meeting us today." Bob replied as their server approached.

"Can I start you off with something to drink?" the woman asked.

"Just water for me," Helen replied.

"Beer for me," Bob added noticing Helen looking sideways at him. He turned to his wife, "What?"

"Your diet…" Helen began.

"Hey, it's only one beer." Bob protested, "And beer is a social lubricant."

With a sigh Helen replied, "Just don't go overboard."

"I won't." Bob replied, holding up his right hand, "Scouts honor."

Helen smirked before she took in the decor of the Idler. Red brick walls. Varnished hardwood bar. A few beer taps. A simple, no frills sort of neighborhood bar and grill. She could see several early arrivals coming into the bar. _Well it is around the time people are getting off work._

Their server came by with their drinks and Bob took a good gulp from the mug of beer he had been served. He glanced over and saw Rick Dicker walking into the bar with two others. One was a slim, auburn haired woman in a black jacket, white blouse and a black miniskirt. The other was a stout, dark haired man grey slacks, a white shirt with no tie, and a tan sport coat.

"Rick's here," Bob replied and waved at his old friend, "With our new friends."

Dicker waved back as Helen turned to wave as well, "Bob, Helen, I want you to meet Agents Moira McTaggert and Carl Allenby."

Bob rose to shake their hands with a smile, "Bob Parr…"

That smile quickly faded while shaking Carl's hand as his eyes took in the enamel badge on his lapel. A skull with two crossed femurs. _A Totenkopf badge. I'd know that thing anywhere._

Carl, for his part, saw Bob's stony expression as he let go of the handshake.

"Ex-military, right?" Bob asked, scowling.

"Yes." Carl took his seat, as Bob and Helen sat down as well. He could see Moira and Rick taking their seats.

"Who did you serve with?" Bob's eyes narrowed as he asked. _Just need to confirm._

"1st Foreign Parachute Regiment, French Foreign Legion." Carl's own eyes narrowed at the Super sitting to his left. _I'm sure I know where this line of questioning is going._

"And before that?" Bob continued.

"6th Division, Finnish Army." Carl retorted, some annoyance in his tone. _Questioning my ass. This is more an interrogation than anything else._

"And before _that?_ " Bob demanded, pointing his index finger at the lapel pin.

"5th SS Panzer Division, _Wiking._ _Waffen-SS_." Carl replied, straightening his posture with a defiant pride.

"Okay, before you two fill the room with enough hostility and testosterone to start _another_ world war we do have business to discuss." Helen interjected.

 _Okay. Somehow have to defuse this situation...or make a quick break for the exit._ Moira thought to herself as her eyes scanned the room, confirming the nearest exit before spotting the server coming their way.

The server asked them if they wanted anything to drink and Moira thought to herself. _Saved by the server._

Carl said, "Beer. The Dortmunder Export if you have it."

"German," Bob grumbled, "Predictable."

"Say what you will," Carl replied, "But the Germans do know how to brew beer."

"And create fanatical organizations like the _Waffen-SS_ …" Bob growled.

"Enough." Helen interjected as the server took Moira and Rick's orders, "We don't need to fight World War II _again._ "

Bob felt Helen's arm around his bicep and the squeeze of her fingers. He looked over to his left at Carl, with an 'I'm watching you' glare. Carl looked straight back at him.

Their server walked off as Rick began, "Personal feelings aside, I heard you, Helen and Lucius had a meeting last night. At DevTech."

"How do you know about that?" Helen asked.

"Let's just say I have my ways," Rick replied, "And honestly if the meeting was about what I think it is, I say take him up on it."

"First off, how did you know about the meeting?" Bob asked.

"I have my ways," Rick replied.

Helen sighed, "So what do you know?"

"We know that Winston's made an offer to bankroll one of you to be the face of his campaign to legalize Supers." Rick replied.

"How…" Helen began before Rick raised his right hand.

"We have our ways."

"Which _clearly_ include ex- _SS_ men," Bob grumbled.

"Bob, not now." Helen interjected, "So what is the NSA's stance on his offer?"

"Officially we're not committed either way." Rick replied.

"Unofficially?" Helen quirked an eyebrow.

"Take him up on it," Rick replied, "Speaking of which, what was your answer."

"I don't know." Helen replied.

* * *

 **Safari Court Motel, Bob and Helen's Room  
** **Municiberg, U.S.A.  
** **Helen and Bob Parr  
16 September 1962, 2145**

"What do you mean you don't know?" Bob asked from their bed, "A few hours ago you were saying it was over and being a Superhero was a fantasy! Now you get the offer of a lifetime and you _don't know!_ "

"It's not that simple Bob!" Helen replied, as she brushed her teeth, "I want to protect the kids-"

"So do I!" Bob interrupted, raising a hand in the air.

Helen spat out the toothpaste from her mouth. "-from _jail_ Bob!"

"And how do you do that?" Bob interjected, "By turning down a chance to change the law that forces them to hide what they are?"

Helen rinsed her mouth before setting down her toothbrush and walking back into the bedroom. "They haven't decided what they are! They're still kids!"

"Kids with _powers_!" Bob argued, "Which makes them Supers whether they decide to use those powers or not! This will benefit them!"

"Maybe in twenty years," Helen replied as she peeled back the covers, climbing into bed, "This is _not_ a good time to be away. I mean Dash is having trouble with homework. Vi is worried about her first date with that boy she likes-Tony. And Jack-Jack…"

"What's wrong with Jack-Jack?" Bob asked, eyebrows furrowing.

"Okay, nothing is wrong with Jack-Jack," Helen replied, "But even a normal baby needs a lot of attention. I'm just not sure I can leave."

"Of course you can leave!" Bob declared, "You've got to! So I-so we-can be Supers again! So our kids can have that choice!"

"You mean so _you_ can have that choice." Helen chuckled.

"Alright, yes." Bob admitted as he sat up in bed, waving his arms as he spoke, "And I would do a _great_ job, no matter what Winston's pie charts say."

Then he sighed, "But they want you. And you'll...do...a great job-too."

Helen stared at him with a small smile, "Well that was excruciating to watch."

Bob laughed, despite himself. _I mean why Helen and not me? Messy indeed. Heavyweight problems require heavyweight solutions. But they want her. And I have to support her._

"I can't lie to you. It's nice to be wanted," Helen replied, "To be taken seriously again after all this time. Flattering, you know. But…"

"What's the choice?" Bob countered, "One: Do this right, get paid well, we're out of the motel and things get better for all Supers-including our kids. Or two: I find a job in two weeks or we're homeless."

"You know it's crazy, right?" Helen began, ticking off examples on her fingers, "To help my family I gotta leave it. To fix the law I gotta break it…"

"You'll be great!" Bob interjected.

"I know I will. But what about you? We have kids?" Helen countered, eyebrows furrowing.

"I'll watch the kids...no problem!"

Helen playfully punched Bob on one arm, "Easy...Easy huh? You're adorable. Well, if there's a problem I'll drop this thing and come straight home…"

"You. Won't. Need. Too." Bob countered, "I got it. You go do this thing."

Helen chuckled slightly as Bob settled his head onto the pillow, "Do it so I can do it better."

Helen smacked Bob with a pillow before stepping out of bed, dialing the number to DevTech with a purpose. She heard two rings before Winston answered, "This is Elastigirl. I'm in."

Following the conversation, Helen walked back to the bed as Bob placed the pillow she'd semi-playfully thrown at him under his head.

"I'm in." Helen replied, "And that means Rick Dicker's got to know too."

Bob sighed, "As long as he keeps the SS goon away from the kids," Bob growled.

"Bob, I _know_ how you feel about SS men but…" Helen replied.

"I won't instigate anything, honey. But if he even starts anything I'm finishing him." Bob growled before turning to one side and closing his eyes.

* * *

TBC


End file.
